God of Fear
by xkeyblademasterx.tumblr
Summary: Phobos, the ancient god of terror, has decided to do what the wannabe fear spirit Pitch could not; Destroy Jack Frost. Mentally, physically, whatever it takes...He's got Jack's staff and a woodchipper, chains and a whip, and more. Jack is going to learn the twisted, dark side of fun. Lots of gore, and Jack hurt, please pay attention to warnings! M cos I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: That's right, my friends, I'm back. I know it's been so long since I was writing. I was struggling greatly with school, family, and my anxiety. However, things are finally looking up and highschool has been pretty good so far.**

**I'm still working to rewrite Pitch's Old Comrade, and most likely the two chapters of Hiccup the Second (title will be changed, explanation will be put in chapter 1) and Death in a Journal will be updated if this story gets some good feedback.**

**There will also be a new story about one of my tumblr muses, my AU Jack Frost. It's gonna be perfect for you evil angst lovers like me :]**

**As will this one. This fanfiction was inspired by What it Takes to Shatter, torturing Jack by using his staff. I think the title speaks for itself. Phobos, from Pitch's Old Comrade, and his brother have had considerable character change since I stopped writing. I ask you all to look at Phobos with a fresh mind. **

**Phobos has become the scum of the earth. This story will be pretty gory, with mature continent (non-con, I'm sorry) and basically? Phobos' goal is to destroy Jack completely. So please, please pay attention to the author notes for warnings!**

**On to the story!**

* * *

When Jack woke, his limbs felt weighed down, heavy, as if the air was trying to push him down on the floor. He knew he was awake, but still...something was gutwrenchingly wrong. He couldn't so much as twitch his toes, forced to lay on his side, his hands pulled uncomfortably behind his back, and his hipbone grinding painfully against the hard ground beneath him. His eyes were open, and he could see, but it was so dark, he could hardly make out a thing. All he could really figure was that the ground was warm, as was the heavy humid air, and it was making him feel nauseated.

Even his tongue felt like sand, his neck and shoulders stiff. He couldn't recall for the life of him how he'd gotten here, and as the confusion began to give way to fear, a door swung open from behind him. Dim light flooded in and Jack thought, for a moment, he was in a concrete basement. But no windows, and the walls and floor were too dark to be cement.

Jack wanted to scream, run, run far, far away when he saw what was in the room. A rack, chains, a small fire pit burning with coals and a tub of water balanced across the rocks encircling it. A table as well, but he couldn't see what was on it.

_Oh God. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God..._

That was about all his fuzzy brain could conjure up at the moment.

Jack closed his eyes again as he heard hiss like laughter, and soft foot steps behind him. "I can hear your heart...The sedative is wearing off, isn't it? Thank goodness. I was getting impatient. Oh, but you can't move yet, can you?"

The voice stopped behind him, and Jack couldn't turn his head to look, still paralyzed. "Good. That means I can chain you up right now, and you can't make trouble of it."

Jack felt large, long fingered hands grip his upper arms, wrapping around them completely as Jack was lifted off the floor. In the dark, he still only caught a glimpse of his captor's feet. Black dress pants, black dress shoes? What, did some cold blooded lawyer decide to take him home?

Ah. There's his snark. Good. That is a good sign.

Jack was carried on his captor's shoulder like a sack of flour, how humiliating. Was he really such a skinny little nothing that people could just carry him around?

Phobos walked across the room over to the wall, before dumping Jack onto the floor by it. Jack let out a muffled yelp as his body made impact, but still, he couldn't strain his eyes enough to look up at his captor. And he'd been dumped facing the wall. Phobos knelt down, unlocking the handcuffs binding Jack's hands, before grabbing one and pulling Jack off the ground, closing the iron restraint around his wrist, and locking it. As he did the same with the other hand, Jack felt a tingling sensation spread through his body. Maybe the paralysis was wearing off.

His toes were barely touching the ground now that he was chained with his back against the wall. Yet, Jack couldn't lift his head yet, forced to stare at his captor's shoes.

Bone white, thin, long fingers gripped his chin suddenly and tilted his head up. Jack could wiggle his toes and fingers now. But he didn't. No. He understood what people meant when they say frozen in fear.

Pitch wasn't frightening at all. No. He was dark and sinister, but Jack would never look at him and feel fear, not even the slightest twitch, as the monster in front of him made memories in his mind.

Phobos grinned, showing slightly pointed, ash gray teeth. He was tall, probably a little over six feet, and lean, his black suit fitting him snugly, perfectly sized. His nails were long, filed to points, and Jack felt them digging into his cheek.

Phobos' skin was whiter than bone, actually, stretched tight over his own bones, and even though he was lean, he was still bigger than Jack, broader chest and shoulders, and definitely a lot stronger. His eyes were wine red, with a film of white over them, and his hair was cut short, whiter than Jack's, his lips, nails, and eyelids blackening, eyes sunken and his head tilted curiously.

Jack felt the terror coil inside of him, twisting his innards into knots, making him feel as if this man had invented the sickening sensation of fear from the very beginning. Pitch was just playing with bad dreams and sleeping disorders, but this man...He destroyed thousands with just one seed of his power.

Pitch Black was an evil spirit with a vendetta against Jack.

Phobos was a dark god who just wanted some fun.

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**A/N Next chapter WILL BE UP SOON! This is a test run since I just came back and just to establish the villain. Basically: Phobos drugged Jack while Jack was asleep in the woods. That's why Jack can't move (some sedatives, dangerous and damaging kinds, cause sleep paralysis, and general paralysis) and is generally not doing anything except hyperventilating and by god, trying not to wet himself or something. **

**If you guys have trouble picturing Phobos, think Slenderman or Jack Skellington, he's like their relative they try not to talk about.**

**Cya soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thanks so much for the feedback, firedrakegirl! This chapter will still be a bit mild, but I promise, the horror is ahead.**

**Not really any warnings here besides swearing, and mild abuse towards Jack.**

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Phobos left Jack, having only stared into his wide, cornflower eyes before letting go of his chin and striding out of the room, the heavy door swinging shut and bolting behind him. Jack could hear the blood pounding in his ears as his heart hammered in his chest at rapid speed, like a hammer against cloth. He struggled to keep his breathing in check, and to still his quaking.

That just wasn't natural. Jack usually didn't know enough to be afraid. He charged into things half-cocked and Pitch hadn't really scared him much, originally. Was he intimidated and wary of the Nightmare King? Of course, Jack wasn't a half-wit. But Jack had never felt true, unadulterated terror before, making his skin burn and prickle, but cold sweat trickle down his back, and his throat close up. He'd thought he was going to throw up, he'd actually felt bile rise up in his throat, and it was all caused simply from that _thing _that he just could not call a man being close to him.

Actually, he realized it was still there, and made the horrible mistake of thinking of that monster again. Those seemingly blind red eyes boring into his own baby blues, Jack gagged and retched, coughing. Since he was working so hard maintaining the winter season and starting to reign it in in some places, he rarely stopped for meals until either Bunny popped out of the ground and force fed him something the yeti's made or one of the other Guardians managed to thrust a peanut butter sandwich in his hands. In which they nearly killed him, discovering Jack was severely allergic and decided they'd stick to egg salad and other things. Peanut butter hadn't been invented yet in the seventeen hundreds, so...

Jack wasn't really think of that now, what little contents of his aching stomach spattering the floor, some catching the front of his hoody. And Phil had just washed it two days ago, too...It dripped from Jack's lips and he sputtered a little, spitting on the ground to try and rid the foul taste from his mouth.

It also happened to freeze against his shirt. It just kept getting better for him, didn't it? The only plus side right now was that the paralysis was wearing off. He just wished he could remember how he'd arrived here at all. He remembered curling in an abandoned fox den beneath an oak tree's roots for the night, comfortably nestled under a layer of snow. Well deserved rest had finally come, and then...this.

Jack began to feel a burning in the muscles of his shoulders and biceps, his wrists and lower back aching. This position of being chained against the wall, and only able to touch the floor if he really stretched his toes was quickly becoming unbearable. Gravity wasn't his friend at the moment.

Well, gravity as never his friend, that's why the wind is and his staff.

Staff.

"G-g..." Jack's tongue felt like rubber. "G...v...Give..." he coughed. "Give it-" God dammit, he had a voice, he can fucking use it, he couldn't be that drugged, could he? He should've probably worried about what he'd been dosed with, but to Jack, he had a far bigger priority.

Finally finding his voice, Jack shouted, _"YOU SON OF A BITCH, GIVE IT BACK!"_

His voice cracked and was scratchy, but satisfyingly loud. Yet, he got no reply. "I KNOW YOU CAN FUCKING HEAR ME!" Really, he shouldn't be yelling at the thing that had caused him such terror just with his presence, but Jack's staff, his conduit, safety blanket, a very part of him, a channel for his soul, was _gone! _And the only place it could possibly be...

Where was his staff? With the psychopath who'd drugged, kidnapped, and chained him.

* * *

Phobos could hear Jack alright, as the immortal teen continued to shout and curse, and demand his precious wooden relic back. Jack, undeniably, was an exceptionally strong individual; Phobos had suspected as much. And he was certain it would be a true _delight _to break him.

The god's blackened lips parted into a smile. Imagine the satisfaction, the pleasure and adrenaline rush to chip off one piece at a time, discard it in the shadows to be lost or to grind it to dust, to skin off strips and wear him away, to snap off bits and pieces, burn away layers...Oh, all the things he had in store. And yet, as he carried all these actions out, Jack would be in one piece.

Not whole but growing smaller, weaker, brittler...His walls would crumble, and Phobos would pick his mind apart with sharp implements and cruel fingers, digging his sharpened nails in the tender, healing wounds, and dripping acid onto those that still lay open and unattended, tearing open those ancient and repaired with his teeth...all with Jack Frost chained, only able to scream and squirm and weep.

Of course, he'd have to manage to get tears out of Jack first. Phobos could see a master of holding them back anywhere.

Perhaps when he was done, he'd leave Jack Frost somewhere close to Pitch's dwelling, so the fool of a Lord of Fear could see Phobos' good work, the work of a true being of power, of what Pitch could have never accomplished; Breaking Jack Frost's will.

Pitch Black was a dark being, but he had once held light and love in his heart, and had the capability, if one could pierce through the shadows squeezing the poor shriveled thing into it's painfully cramped cage. Pitch could torture, yes. But he had limits and lines he wouldn't cross. Would he frighten children? When desperate, yes. But would he twist a child's arm and make them weep in pain as bone cracked? _Never. _Pitch had what he called restraint; Phobos deemed it a weak stomach. Pitch couldn't allow the Fearlings to take him fully, to pass himself over to the darker part of life.

Phobos sighed, it was insulting, honestly, to be associated with that man. Lords of Fear, they were a joke now. He, his brother, they were the very first, and the creatures of Tartarus and demons born from shadows. Impure beings like corrupted and possessed, brittle things like Pitch Black, to be named a Lord of Fear...A _king of nightmares! _The humiliation, the disgrace, the...

Phobos clenched his fists around the object in his hand, and Jack's shouting silenced. The wood was rough and firm, but dull in Phobos' bone white palms. He tilted his head, straining to hear his captive, before walking smoothly to the door and leaning an ear against it.

There. Ever so faint...

Choking.

Phobos' sick curiosity overcame his disgust for Pitch Black, and he loosened his grasp. Choking turned to retches and gasps. Phobos smile, tightening his grip once more and sliding his hands farther apart, as Jack was joking once more and wheezing, as if a hand was pressing on his windpipe.

Phobos slowly began to bend the staff, the wood creaking and moaning, and at the same time, he loosened his grip to allow Jack air.

Jack's wail, unable to be controlled or restrained, was torn from his throat as Phobos bent the staff. Phobos paused, looking at the now-curved stick, before slowly relaxing it back to being straight.

Pausing for another moment to listen to the lovely (to him) sound of Jack's weak gasps and humiliatingly undeniable whimpers, he undid the bolt-lock to the door and stepped inside.

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**A/N Two in one night! So this was still a test run for writing, so you guys have more for feedback, because I'm seriously needing it...I hope this gave you insight of Phobos' character!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Three followers already? Holy shit. Thank you to everyone for giving it a shot, and there aren't many warnings for this chapter.**

**There will be some mild abuse towards Jack, but the next chapter is a pretty gruesome hallucination. If you guys want, list some ideas for it! I already have a few, but it'd be nice to hear what kind of stuff you guys want :]**

* * *

Jack had never felt sensations like that before. Implausible suffering that just suddenly bore through him. He windpipe felt as if it were being crushed, and all he cough do was choke and gape like a dying fish as his chest and throat burned. Whatever malicious force causing it suddenly became even more vicious, and Jack was permitted to greedily gulp down air when raw, needle like pain went through his spine.

Muscles screamed as they were stretched and torn, his vertebrae pulled and his ribs bent, and Jack couldn't help it. He squirmed in his chains, hands twisted as he tried to pull them free to no avail, and he scrunched his eyes shut, his mouth wide open as he howled.

Though it was an eternity, every second dragging by tortuously, but truly, it wasn't even two minutes. And the moment the pain vanished, leaving a dull ache in his body, Jack went limp, his chest heaving and sweat beading his forehead. Whatever it had been had drained his energy, ravaged his body, and he felt a prickle of fear that he'd been severely injured.

That staff itself had not, despite the abuse dealt to it, so no. Jack had yet to be truly _damaged. _

Jack couldn't even lift his head, his neck ached so terribly, as the door's bolt as slid off and it opened. Phobos' shoes clicked softly but clearly against the stone floor as he came towards Jack. That fear crept over Jack once more, and his throat burned and watered as the urge to vomit returned as well.

Phobos gritted his teeth with a soft 'tsk', seeing what had happened to the clean floor of his torture chamber. He made a mental note to feed Jack as little as possible, if he was going to throw up so easily. He held Jack's staff behind his back, not wanting Jack to see it just yet.

Phobos reached out, curving his fingers under Jack's chin and tilting his head up. Jack blinked his dull eyes, trying to get the red haze to clear as he sub consciously brushed his tongue over his lips, starting to feel the dryness affecting his mouth. Phobos was a little disappointed that Jack had shed no tears. Though he wanted to savor this, he still couldn't quite wait for when Jack would lose control of his emotions.

Jack's breath rattled in his faintly burning chest, "Who're y...yuh...wh..." he croaked pathetically, then swallowing thickly.

"Who am I?" Phobos repeated softly, his voice feeling like the edge of a cold blade scraping over Jack's back, a cold Jack never wanted against his porcelain skin. "That's a bit broad. Let's start with the name."

His grip suddenly turned cruel, forcing Jack's head up, exposing the column of his throat as Jack had to stare up at the ceiling, where chains dangled. Phobos' nails dug into his cheek and Jack choked slightly in surprise, gulping another breath, fearing Phobos would suddenly begin strangling him. Phobos' voice hissed, slithering like a cool, slimy fog through Jack's ears.

**"I am Phobos, the god of terror, your terror! I was worshiped, innocents slaughtered and their blood offered to me, warriors prayed for me to gift them with the ability to terrorize those they fought! I ravaged through war, strode through the plagues, and tasted every flavor of fear there has ever been and ever will be, every fear in the world possesses my name in it!"** Phobos actually loved how 'phobia' came from his name.

"Y-you-" Jack's voice struggled through his tightened throat, "You're a g-god-?"

Phobos scowled. "Yes, you _oaf, _I believe that's what I just told you."

"You sound like just another Boogeyman to me." Jack felt a smirk grace his thin lips, and a rush of relief that his usual snark came naturally still. He had his wits, then, right?

Wrong.

Phobos hand moved with cobra speed, closing around Jack's throat and lifting him up. Though it eased the pain from hanging from chains, the fire in Jack's ribcage flared again and he gasped, and was choking once more.

"You insolent little brat!" Phobos spat, "You dare to speak to a god in that way?! _THAT DISGRACE PITCH BLACK IS NOT EVEN AN INKLING OF MY POWER!_ You think you're lucky I haven't killed you, well, I will quickly change your mind. You're always on the Naughty list, Jack, and naughty children have to be _punished."_

Jack wheezed as his throat was released and let out a strangled yelp as he fell down, his full weight on his restraints again. Ouch, ouch, ouch...that was his general train of thought. As Jack found his voice, he rasped, "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Phobos tilted his head in thought. "To prove something. To elaborate Pitch's failure. And for the fun of it, of course. I always liked doing these things, and it's always more fun with a specimen like you. A very handsome young man with an exceptionally strong will and soul?" he reached out again, sliding his fingers through Jack's platinum hair before gripping it harshly. Jack quickly forgot how creepy the last sentence was, letting out a soft squeak of pain from his abused scalp.

"Pitch thinks his nightmares about ruined Easters and black horses are bad...let me show you what a _real _nightmare is, Jack." Phobos said softly, before he suddenly slammed Jack's head against the wall he was chained against, and Jack's world was black instantly.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Four favorites, four reviews, four follows and almost two hundred views?! I love you guys, you're all too good to me! All the feedback has been positive, and keep in mind, this hallucination is my own idea; But it won't be the only one Jack is having, so absolutely, roll in your ideas, let's be collaborative! EVERYONE WILL BE CREDITED IN AUTHOR NOTES! Unless you want to be discreet and are shy, I promise not to put your name, just 'lovely contribution from anonymous' or something like that.**

**So this is based off of the myth of the Stymphalian birds, flesh eating birds from Greek mythology that couldn't be defeated but only driven away by noise. Noise that doesn't involve screaming. I am relatively sure Heracles drove them away with bells? **

**Their weakness is bells...**

**Warnings are relatively extreme gore, lots of Jack in pain and general disturbing-ness.**

**Anyway, let's get to the chapter!**

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The world bled into his eyes, like water swishing over a not-quite-dry paint canvas, colors and sounds creeping around his head, but not quite coming together.

Jack could not move, he could not speak. He wasn't sure he was even breathing. He felt as if he was air, blown up into a balloon, his conscious floating around his body but painfully distant.

Yet it all suddenly came rushing back, a force like a wave slamming into his back and Jack's knees hit cold earth and his hands braced his fall just in time. Jack stumbled slightly, his forehead almost meeting the ground until he steadied himself. He froze, on his hands and knees, breathing experimentally, taking in the sight of the ground under his hands. Dry, scratchy leaves with dull, lifeless patterns of frost crawling over the dirt and leaves. Jack slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt off his hands and looking around.

All he could see were dark, barren trees. No leaves, no snow, just dry, almost black bark and sharp, skeletal branches snaking overhead beneath a dull gray sky.

"Not very colorful here, is it?" Jack muttered, bending down to pick up his staff. And he choked back a gasp at the sickening feeling in his stomach that it wasn't there; Hadn't he dropped it or something? Why wasn't it here?!

Okay, okay, no reason to panic, maybe he fell, maybe it's stuck in one of those very sinister and unwelcoming (wow, he is glad he didn't fall in one) trees or the wind carried it somewhere else, he could find it, he'd just have to walk around a bit. No big deal. He was fine. Jack swallowed thickly, pushing down his rising panic and the urge to hyperventilate, and glanced around.

He shivered. He really didn't like those trees. The branches looked like cruel claws and twisted spears, that if he'd fallen in one, he would by impaled multiple times. Or shredded. Jack quickly averted his gaze to straight ahead and began walking. He actually didn't like walking at all, without being able to twirl and spin his staff around, feel the weight if it resting against his shoulders, it just felt so _dull_ and _unnatural_. Jack curled his fingers into fists, uncurling them, and repeating the process over and over, unable to grow used to the absence.

The trees gradually thickened, and thorn bushes caught and scratched at Jack's skin and clothes and he hissed and yelped when thorn embedded themselves in the souls of his feet. A few scratches bled, over his hands and ankles and feet, and they all stung like crazy. Jack would've complained out loud, but something just told him that he shouldn't speak. At all. The unbearable silence of this place was so thick, so foreboding...

Which is why he shrieked in a _totally dignified and manly way _and jumped two feet in the air when a crow suddenly cawed in the tree above and behind him.

Jack whipped around, quelling his trembling, and glower at the black bird tilting his head at him, the little monster perched at a branch ten feet above Jack's head. He scowled, the thing thought it was funny, didn't it? "Go find some road kill," he muttered, turning around to continue walking.

And he stopped in a perfect circle of a clearing, no bigger than a small room, within the trees. Crows landed in the trees all around him, cawing softly, curiously, beady eyes boring into Jack. They clacked their beaks, tilted their heads, ruffled their feathers. They did normal bird things, but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that they were all _looking at him. _Looking directly at him, and he could feel this thing in their gaze, _this feeling, this affect..._He took a few steps back, but then took several clumsy, startled steps forward at the raucous cawing behind him, and whipped around. More, more of them, all over the place, staring at him, cornering him, and the way they were looking at him, why, why did it make him feel so sick, so scared...

One suddenly took flight, diving down and nearly knocking Jack over as it pecked his cheek. Jack let out a strangled cry of distress and pain, and swatted the demonic thing away, staggering back and clapping his hand over his cheek, blood dripping down. "What the _hell?!" _he shouted indignantly, as the crow settled back in the branches, it's beak glistening wet with Jack's blood. "I like my face, believe it or not, I would seriously appreciate it'd be respected, you fucking-" Jack scowled. He was seriously cursing out a _bird. _

There'd been a scratch already where his cheek had been caught by thorns. Even though it hurt like crazy, he just turned around to go. But all of those scavenger, sharp-beaked birds seemed more excited now, ruffling feathers, flapping wings, cawing louder until it was deafening. The sight of blood was what had done it.

And then the realization hit Jack, how they were looking at him, what was in their gaze. Why they were cornering him, why one had tried to tear flesh from his face.

There was _hunger _in their eyes.

Their cawing grew louder and deafening, and Jack covered his ears, the sound vibrating through his skull, "SHUT UP!" he shouted, "SHUT UP, GET OUT OF HERE! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

But they kept sounding their calls, hopping from branches, rattling the trees, their wings gusting air around Jack and some decided they didn't like tormenting Jack, they were hungry, _they wanted flesh now. _An Jack suddenly found the inky feathered demons swarming him, and he tried in vain to swat them away, to stagger out of reach as their beaks tore his clothes and ripped hair from his scalps, slicing into his skin. Jack's cries were shouts of pain, but also fear and frustration.

But soon, his clothes were barely rags clinging to his form and as more and more came, Jack finally lost his footing, trying in vain to shield himself as he fell. And the moment they did, they were just _on him. _Tearing hunks of flesh from his arms and legs, and Jack wailed in agony, as those birds flew back to gulp down what they'd taking, before diving back into the horde from more. His fingernails were torn off and only cast aside, unwanted, before spear-like beaks began picking the flesh from his fingers. Jack screamed bloody murder (pun intended) as his fingers were soon stripped clean and all he could do was twist and scream in agony and horror that he was being _eaten alive. _

Jack shrieked as he was blinded, a crow sinking it's beak into his right eye once, before pulling it out and one of it's demented friends dove forward to peck and slice at the optic nerve. He didn't want to die like this, he didn't want to die _at all! _

Both eyes were gone now, and they were tearing at his lips, muffling his screaming, until it was just weak wails and moans, his limbs twitching feebly. Blind, skinned, literally crow food, and he could only lay there, wishing, praying it would all be over.

_Please...please...please..._

He thought over and over, pleading, now for death to come, for sleep, for any oblivion he could have. But nothing came and soon, he hadn't the strength to make a sound, save for his weak gurgling and choking as three birds began pecking away at the column of his throat. He felt a beak dig under his knee cap, several between his ribs, and soon, they were tearing his chest open to get at the bloody goods inside.

And it all began to fade, and Jack would have smiled if he could (he didn't have lips anymore) as he realized, he wouldn't be able to feel anything soon.

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**A/N Jack.**

**I am not sorry. I am proud of this chapter. I'm sorry my chapters are short, but they will be plentiful, and let me know if you want some view on what the guardians are up to! Don't worry, Jack isn't dead. He's just gonna wake up. And probably puke again.**

**Review, review, review, I really need it for this one! Love you all :]**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Warnings for this chapter; Swearing, and all I'm gonna say is...**

**Jack's staff**

**and**

**Wood chipper**

* * *

Usually when you die, everything goes dark. But for Jack, everything was already dark, because, you know, _a bunch of demonic crows just ate his fucking eyes. _Oh, and the rest of him, too, can't leave that part out.

So yeah. Jack is just peachy.

Back to the point; Jack had some serious disappointed about the afterlife when his sight suddenly flooded back and all he saw was the creepiest room he'd ever been in, all dark and uncomfortably warm. But he quickly forget about it was he forgot how to breathe.

Jack forgot where he was, how he got there and was chained up, because all he could feel was _pain. _As if the crows had not quite done enough to let him die, and he was just laying there, his brain fully functional as the gory, mangled, bloody mush of his body sent nothing but pain signals to it. Jack couldn't even scream, it was just too much. But gradually, it trickled away until it had never been there at all, and left Jack shivering and his chest heaving as he gagged.

"If you throw up again, I'm making you clean the floor with your tongue." Phobos called irritably, standing just out of Jack's left peripheral vision.

The sound of the monster's voice sent it all flooding back. His abduction, the first two encounters with Phobos, being chained, the indescribable and unknown pain...

"Yeah? It's a good thing I liked my lunch, then." Jack muttered bitterly, but he swallowed a few times anyway as a precaution.

"Funny, seeing as you were just lunch yourself!" Phobos retorted, before walking in front of Jack. Jack wasted a lot of his energy lifting his head to make eye contact, but he reeeeally wanted to give his best shot at an intimidating glare. It was a pathetic misfire. Phobos grinned wide, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What did you think?"

Jack drew a blank for a moment. Wait...he wasn't seriously...This fucking psychopath was asking for his critique? Was this guy even real?

"I think you're demented." Jack spat. "And psychotic and you should let me go before-"

Jack stopped talking as Phobos started laughing. Cackling, snickering, as if Jack just told the best joke he'd heard in months. The cold, hiss like sound of Phobos' laughter made Jack's skin crawl and he shrank back slightly, to the best of his ability, being chained up and all. Phobos finally stopped, smiling, "Before? Before what? The Guardians?"

Jack knew what was coming. And he interjected as quick as he could, "Don't you _dare." _he snarled. "Don't you dare try telling me they're not coming, that they're glad to be rid of me, or anything in the same fucking ball park, because I know it's not true. I'm not a fucking kid anymore, I'm not _alone _and just because I don't completely trust the Guardians doesn't mean I'm blind to the fact that they're doing their absolute best to prove that they're sorry, that they want to make me family, _they care and they're coming! _I'm loved. I know that now! And you can't convince me I'm not."_  
_

Phobos remained silent the whole time, and Jack felt the first pleasant warmth in his chest in a while, since he'd been dumped into this mess. Because he was right. Bunny regularly checked up on Jack, breaking his workaholic habits to make sure Jack remembered to do normal, mandatory things like eat lunch and get to bed before four a.m, no matter how many flurries he still has to take care of, or heavy snow he has to replace with dusting of flakes and frost. Tooth did more than coo at his teeth; She actually 'mom'd him all the time. Seriously, he loved the attention, but when she decided it was okay to lick her thumb and try to rub a smudge of dirt off his cheek and chide him over it, there had to be a line drawn somewhere.

North insisted he sleep in the room given to him at the Pole, and the only thing he asked in return was that he round up the elves to the rooms away from the workshop and play with them. As long as no one got hurt, it was fine; It kept Jack busy and the elves in good moods (usually) and out of the way. But North never complained when Jack wanted to sit in the office and tinker away at his own pieces of ice or watch North work and sometimes, he even collaborated ideas with North.

Sandy was always incredibly busy, but he never failed to make sure that what little sleep Jack got had good, peaceful dreams and he checked in whenever he could, and sometimes, on his dreamsand cloud, he let Jack sit up there with him and just kept each other company in comfortable silence.

Phobos waited for Jack to finish, before shaking his head in disappointment. "Oh, I know that. The skies, the earth, beneath the earth, they're searching for you, hunting down Pitch and other spirits who aren't fond of you to rattle them for your whereabouts. What you should is that no matter how high and far they search, how much they call your name, they won't find you. They can't. They'll wear themselves out and soon be barely able to keep their eyes open, exhausting themselves trying to find their precious little Jackie; But you're not even in the same world as them anymore. Do you really think all spirits dwell on earth? Not all can travel between worlds. But I'm a god. Olympus is another world. The Underworld as well."

Jack felt his blood run cold. This...wasn't what he was expecting. "I-I'm in the Underworld?"

Phobos smiled again, "No. Somewhere worse."

Jack racked his memory, Greek, this guy was Greek, okay, got it, Greek mythology was pretty easy, right? He remembered Jamie had some homework on it before...Another world, another world...

"Think some place deep. Dark. Endless hell...the domain of dark gods and spirits..." Phobos prompted.

Jack was thinking, but if he'd just shut up for five fucking seconds, maybe he could figure it out. Jack closed his eyes, memories and information trickling back...almost...just on the tip of his tongue...

Oh.

Oh, god no.

"Tartarus." Jack croaked finally.

"Bravo," Phobos smile, clapping his hands mockingly, "So he does have an education. That's right, Jack Frost, you're in Tartarus. In which no one gets out of unless someone of higher powers brings them out. Whether or not my dear old Dad wants me out and about for another century, I'm patient."

Phobos leaned forward and Jack held his breath as their noses almost touched. "I've got you to keep me entertained," he murmured darkly, as Jack shrank back as far as he could.

He wasn't this guy's pet.

Jack suddenly leaned forward and spat directly in Phobos' eye. "How about you go fuck yourself instead," he snarled.

Phobos lurched back in disgust, wiping his eyes frantically, Did he seriously just do that? Did he honestly have the courage to?

All Jack did was enrage Phobos. He gritted his teeth, "I'll make you regret that, you little brat." he hissed.

"Yeah? Try it." Jack retorted. As far as he'd seen, Phobos was mostly talk and illusions. All that fear wasn't even plausible. But Phobos only grinned, turning and walking out of Jack's line of sight again. But Jack could move his head now, so he just let his gaze follow. And there, right there, leaning against the far wall...

His staff.

"Wait," Jack began, fear prickling inside him, "Wait."

Phobos picked up the staff, and went over to the table next to the rack, picking up a few sharp pieces of metal, just shards, scraps. But white fog, a vapor curling from Phobos' palm, made them clink and rustle, lifting them into the air, creating a small whirl wind. It hovered in the air in front of Phobos, and Phobos lifted Jack's staff.

"What are you doing? Stop. Stop it. Give it back. Give it back, STOP!" Jack yelled, pulling at the chains, but only getting raw and blood-oozing skin as a reward. His staff had been broken once, and the pain had been so _devastating _on a level Jack couldn't even explain, the memory became distant and he was glad of it.

He never wanted any harm to come to his staff, not before or after it was broken, something inside him was screaming that this just wasn't good, it was horrible, it was wrong, and he was in serious trouble.

The little make shift woodchipper's shards clinked together and Phobos held the crook of the staff, before putting the other end inside.

The metal sliced through the wood, stripping off the bark, chipping off pieces that clattered to the floor, splintering the first two inches and shredding it away.

At the same time, Jack's feet were mangled. Skin sliced open, toenails were ripped off, toes were broken and Phobos was amazed they weren't taken off entirely. All the way up to his ankles, blood dripped to the floor, and Jack _screamed. _He twisted against his chains, back arching front the wall, bending his knees as if he could get away from the pain. The damage on his staff replicated itself on his body, and Jack screamed as loud as he could, _"STOP! JUST STOP! I'M SORRY! STOP IT, STOP, I'M SORRY!" _Over and over...

A good three inches of Jack's staff lay in chips and splinters on the floor, but Phobos let the white fog fade, allowing the metal shards to fall among them. Jack went limp, his chest heaving as he barely restrained his sobs. _"Sorry...I'm sorry...please...don't do it again..."_

"It does more than physical damage, huh? Good. I'll draw that out." Phobos tested the staffs weight in his hand, stepping closer to Jack, Before swinging the staff around like a golf club and slamming it into Jack's stomach. Jack retched, his body convulsing as the air was knocked out of him. Phobos hit him again, and he choked on air as he tried to breathe, eyes wide, and spittle dripping from his lip as he forgot how to swallow.

Phobos lifted the staff, cracking it across Jack's jaw, before swinging it back around to do the same to the other side. As Jack caught his breath, he coughed and scrunched his eyes shut, moaning piteously. Phobos tossed Jack's staff on the floor among it's lost pieces, and gripped Jack's bruised jaw, lifting his head. Jack's breath was labored, and sweat beaded his skin as he struggled to stay conscious. Phobos lifted his other hand, brushing Jack's sweaty bangs back from his forehead. "Now," Phobos said softly. "You're going to be respectful from now on, right?"

Jack didn't answer with anything but a barely audible whimper he'd never admit he'd emitted. But it was good enough for Phobos. Phobos let go, and patted his cheek. "Good boy. But you're all bloody and sweaty now, let's clean you up, him?"

Phobos walked away, heading to the door and opening it. "A hot bath should do it."

Jack couldn't even lift his head as the door swung shut and bolted.

* * *

**A/N I feel like this turned out a little lame...Kinda have trouble writing Jack, like, all the time.**

**Anyway, Review, Review! Cya in the next chapter :]**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N It's basically straight forward Jack abuse from here on out. One thing I want from you guys, do you want me to put the Guardians in? See what they're up to?**

**Also, I might be starting a new series on Guardians one shots/shenanigans, sort of like a prequel to this? I'm not all gore and angst, guys. That's means if you want it, that's where you send me your requests! **

**Warnings for this chapter: Just remember that Phobos said Jack is due for a hot bath in the last chapter...**

* * *

The best part about Tartarus being mostly ruins in some parts was that if Phobos went for a stroll, he could find virtually anything with enough patience. And he enjoyed these strolls, quiet except for the occasional untraceable growl or shriek.

But wandering into a house partially sunken in the dull, gray sand that Phobos walked over, he found what he needed. A simply tin bathtub. Picking it up on his shoulder, he headed back to the temple where he'd locked Jack under.

Jack lost consciousness shortly after Phobos had left and Phobos purposely entered the chamber quietly and set the tub down so he wouldn't wake Jack. Picking up a pair of long, gleaming scissors, and stepped over to Jack. The scissors clicked and snipped quietly as Phobos rid Jack of his hoody and pants, leaving him in dark blue, snow flake pattern boxers. If things could get any more humiliating...

Pushing the tub under Jack's mangled feet, Phobos waved his hand over it. Steam rose from it was it was filled to the very brim with hot water. Warm water would be nearly searing to Jack.

Simultaneously, the chains opened, and let Jack fall. The sensation of falling jolted Jack awake, but the first thing he felt was his skin _burning. _Jack sat bolt upright, trying to spring up and get away, a shriek tearing past his lips, but cruel hands gripped his shoulders and pushed him back down. Jack was still screaming as the scorching heat rushed down his throat, burning his tongue, searing his throat, and he choked and bubbles rushed to the surface as he was unable to reign in his screams.

His limbs flailed, trying to get himself free, water sloshing out over the sides of the tub, and now, Jack's lungs were burning, screaming for air. His skin was a bright, splotchy red, and his struggles grew weak as the air deprivation began getting to him, and Jack didn't dare open his eyes int he heat. But suddenly, Phobos let go of his shoulders, and pulled him up out of the water by his drenched hair.

Jack gasped, his chest heaving, and he choked and wheezed among whimpers and wails as he still boiled and burned, squirming, trying to lift himself out of the water. _"Make it stop, make it stop, __**please,"**_ he pleaded weakly. He couldn't, he couldn't stand this, it was killing him, didn't Phobos see that?

But Phobos only smiled, before pushing Jack's head back under, and Jack tried in vain to pry his hand away, and red drifted through the water as his nose began to bleed. His hands gripped the sides of the tub, trying to pull himself out, clawing, scrambling, with no progress.

Finally, after pulling him up to hear him gasp and beg, before forcing him back under over and over, Phobos let go and kicked the tub over, dumping him onto the floor. Jack curled up on his side, heaving for air as he retched and coughed, his skin split open and oozing blood in some places, the extreme heat having disagreed with his winter spirit skin.

Jack curled up, pressing his hand over his mouth as he sobbed helplessly, his whole body quaking and shuddering. Some times, he'd forget to leave before the warmer season came. He'd get nauseous and sick, pain ridden and aching, his head always spinning and pounding, and barely able to walk straight...

This was so, so much worse. Jack lay there, dry heaving and choking, as Phobos leaned down and Jack flinched as Phobos pushed his wet hair back from his forehead.

"You look horrible." Phobos snickered. "Red all over. Bit sensitive?"

Jack let out a strangled cry of protest as Phobos grabbed his arms, uncurling his body and forcing him to lay on his stomach. "No, no, stop, get off me!" Jack cried hoarsely, as Phobos pressed a hand against his back, holding him down. "A-aah-Stop, d-don't touch me, Get OFF!"

But Phobos only dug his sharpened nails into Jack's skin, as the base of his neck, and dragging them down, gouging blood lines through the angry red, sensitive flesh. Jack shrieked as blood trickled, and tried to arch his back away from Phobos' fingers, sobbing. "Stop, stop, stop, stop..." the only word he could manage in his pain fogged mind.

Finally, Phobos stood, walking over to the table to get Jack's staff, after putting the tub back upright. Jack laid on the floor, weeping helplessly. "Wh-why?" he choked out. "Why won't you stop?!"

Phobos didn't answer, looking over the table of torture implements, deciding which to use. Cork screws, hammers, vices, scalpel, wedges...

"Answer me!" Jack shouted, his voice breaking as he pushed his hands against the floor, managing to get to his knees. "WHAT DID I DO?!" he demanded, "Haven't I suffered enough, why, why can't you just LET ME GO?! I-I want..."

Jack struggled to breathe, "I want to go _home..."_

Phobos suddenly turned around and Jack froze, starting to move back in fear. "Wait-" he began, as Phobos grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Jack's legs gave out as he cried out in pain, unable to walk, not after the damage done to his feet. "Let go!"

"Shut up," Phobos snarled, shaking Jack. He just gripped Jack's arm, and shook him, violently, until his teeth rattled in his skull, and then threw him down on the floor. "You think I need a reason to entertain myself? No one would miss you, Jack. No one who could bring you home. Your precious Guardians are searching for you, but they will NEVER FIND YOU!"

Jack wasn't even able to scream as Phobos kicked him in the side, and his rib bent to the verge of breaking in a second. Phobos kicked him again, and again, until he heard a satisfying crack and blood was running down Jack's face.

Phobos knelt down, grabbing Jack's hair and lifting his head up. "You're going to shut up," he hissed, before slamming Jack's face into the ground, and lifting his head up again. Jack scrunched his eyes shut, managing a pitiful whine of pain. "You will scream when I make you, cry when I tell you, I will do whatever I want to you! Beat you, whip you, burn you, _FUCK YOU, _AND YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT! So what I have to say is that you be a good boy and just take what I give. No questions. No demands. And _maybe _I'll keep this from becoming the worst nightmare you could possibly imagine. Understood?"

Jack didn't answer, coughing and spitting out blood.

Phobos gripped his hair tighter, then letting go and grabbing Jack's forearm. And as Phobos snapped the bone, Jack shrieked, "YES! I UNDERSTAND! I'LL BE GOOD," he sobbed, "I'll be good, I'll be good..."

Phobos let go, standing up and going back over to the table with a satisfied smile, picking up the small wedges and a hammer just their size.

"Now, you've already lost all your toe nails; How about we made the fingers match?"

* * *

**A/N It's pretty late, I sort of whipped this out. I haven't wrote genuine torture in a while, but this chapter was basically Phobos establishing his control.**

**I feel like I'm depicting Jack was incredibly weak...let me know if I am.**

**Review, review...god, I am tired...**

**Credit to firedrakegirl for giving me the wedge idea! :] Hun, you're the bomb**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Alright, so I'm probably only gonna be updating on weekends but working on chapters throughout the week. Anyway, I seriously need this question answered; Should I write what's going on with the Guardians or no? **

**Warnings for this chapter; Torture, yada yada, lots of Jack abuse, pretty gruesome stuff in this one**

**Remember to reel in your ideas for hallucinations/things to do to Jack! I don't plan on this thing being short!**

* * *

Jack managed to reign in his hysterical sobbing as Phobos dragged him across the floor to the middle of the room, and pulled him upright to his knees. Jack's shoulders quaked and he gritted his teeth, trying to silence his crying. He'd finally stopped asking why; There was no point. A new question he didn't want to ask was what was Phobos going to do to him next?

He'd said make his fingers match his feet, and Jack hadn't even gotten a look at them. But just thinking about it sent another wave of terror crashing over him, remembering that Phobos still had his staff. And would it even work for Jack anymore, damaged as it was?

Phobos pulled what looked like a three feet, maybe more tall block of wood out from under the table, leather straps on the top. Pushing it over to Jack, he knelt down, taking Jack's wrists. Naturally, Jack resisted, trying to wrench it away, but Phobos gripped his broken arm and twisted it. He was silent as Jack howled, trying to curl in on himself, to shy away from the pain as if that would make it more distant.

After that, Jack didn't resist as his hands were strapped to the block, leather restraints pulled tightly around his bruised wrists. Jack had to lean forward on his knees, and rested his head against his own arm, starting to feel the weakness. No water, no food, how long had he been going like this? The lack of real sleep just made his nerves fried and his adrenaline supplies drained.

Phobos knelt down on the other side of the block, and fit a small wood wedge under the nail of Jack's right little finger. Jack flinched and winced at the discomfort, but the pain was mild.

That was until Phobos took the hammer and brought it hard against the flat end up the wedge. The front half of Jack's nail ripped up from his finger, and Jack was screaming all over again. But it was weak and hoarse, ebbing off to broken sobs. All he could manage was a groan with his voice cracking and popping up an octave throughout, as the nail was ripped off entirely. One by one, they come off, accompanied by Jack's piteous whines and sobs. Jack's fingers clawed, his hands twisted, only to be held still by Phobos' cruel hand or the hammer brought down on them. Only with enough force to bruise, a warning that if Jack doesn't stay still, Phobos would break his hands.

But Jack wouldn't stop, desperate, and no matter how much he squirmed and begged, the pain never ceased. It didn't even occur to him to be humiliated now, the way he pleaded and cried.

Phobos grew fed up with trying to accomplish his task with Jack's resistance, and stood up with a disapproving 'tsk', heading back over to the table. Picking up a power drill, battery powered, he attached a cork-screw like attachment to it and picked up a nearly identical one, before coming back over. Jack looked up only to see what Phobos was up to now and he immediately was back to trying to pull his hands free, _"NO!" _he shouted, his voice breaking, "No, no, please, stop, no, I-I'll stop, I'll stay still, please, PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! STOP!"

Phobos' lips turned up in a smile as he listened, turning on the drill as Jack shouted and pleaded for Phobos to stop, he's sorry, he'll be good, stop, stop...

Jack sobbed in despair as Phobos put the tip of the screw against his hand and the sound that followed was deafening. The sound of the drill, almost drowned out by Jack's shrieking. The screw twisted right through his hand, into the wood of the block his hand was strapped too. When Phobos felt it go in, he stopped, detached the screw, and attached the other. Jack was still screaming, and it began to ease off. But it was back full volume, Jack's voice too high and unrecognizable to be his own, yet his throat ached and burned.

Finally, it was over and Jack went completely limp, moaning almost non stop as Phobos put the drill down. His cries were weak and always ebbed off to whines and moans. His fingers twitched feebly, but he couldn't and wouldn't move his hands now. He wondered if he could even use them, if they ever healed. Jack was barely able to issue a response as the last seven fingernails were ripped away and the wedges leaving small splinters in his nail beds and fingertips, only able to focus on breathing. His head felt fuzzy, on the cusp of passing out, and he'd want nothing more than to fall into oblivion.

Phobos put away the hammer and wedges, listening to Jack's labored breathing and soft whimpers, the sound of his dry swallowing and his parched throat begging for water. After the heat of the last 'water treatment' he got, his lips were cracked and bleeding, and his tongue had never felt so dry, so heavy and sand like. Phobos walked back over and knelt down.

Jack flinched as he felt Phobos grip his chin and brush his thumb over Jack's dry lip, and his eyes fluttered half open, his vision blurred and tinted red. Phobos debated giving him water. How long did it take for humans to die without it? A week, right?

Phobos let go, and undid the restraints of Jack's wrists. He didn't think Jack would try to escape, anyway, and his hands were _drilled in place _so he probably wasn't even going to try. Even so, Phobos wanted to make sure if he ever made it out the door, something would stop him from getting too far.

Phobos stood and watched as Jack finally slipped away from the waking world.

* * *

_"If I ever find the bloody spring nymphs..."_

_"Bunny..."_

_"It's too early!"_

_"I'm okay."_

_"You're baked."_

_"Heh...your fur is...really soft..."_

_Jack smiled weakly, while Bunny pushed his sweat soaked bangs out of his eyes. Spring came too early, and Bunny had been doing his runs when he found Jack curled up in a muddy creek bank, trying to cool off and hardly moving. At the moment, he was still covered in mud and more than out of it. His eyes were glassy and feverish, and his breath rattled in his chest, and he was still covered in mud. Bunny let out a weary sigh, "Is it?" Jack didn't even seem to know how sick he was. "How're you feelin'?"_

_Jack brushed his tongue over his dry, cracked lips, and thought about it for a moment. "M'hot...real achy...thirsty...Can I have some water?"_

_Jack sounded like a little kid asking for a glass in the middle of the night. Bunny glanced around, "Yeah, sure...I'll take you back to the Warren."_

_"I'm not allowed in the Warren, Bunny'll get mad," Jack whined pitifully._

_"Uh. I am Bunny." Now he was considerably worried._

_"Bunny! When did you get here?"_

_"Don't worry about it," Bunny shook his head, slowly picking up Jack and trying to block out Jack's groaning and whimpering. "Owwww..."_

_"Yeah, I know, Frost."_

_Tapping his foot, the tunnel opened beneath their feet. But it slanted under ground, so Bunny could walk into the tunnel instead of jumping down. He thought it was best not to jolt or jostle Jack around. Jack may have lost consciousness a few times on the way to the Warren, but the underground rooms inside were cool enough to soothe his condition. Laying him down on a bed of moss, Bunny made sure he was settled, "Alright, just stay awake, I'll be right back."_

_"Right back?" Jack croaked weakly._

_"Right back." Bunny confirmed._

_"Where'ya goin'?"_

_"To get you some water."_

_"Oh...thanks."_

_Bunny shot another worried look at the docile, feverish teenager, before leaving the room. Jack was slipping in and out of consciousness when he came back, and mumbled in complaint when Bunny tilted his aching head up, and put the rim of the cup against his lips. He only allowed Jack to take little sips of the cold water._

_Bunny took the cup away before Jack could finish even half of it. Jack groaned in complaint, "Bunny..."_

_Bunny didn't answer, and Jack's eyelids felt too heavy to open. "Hey," he croaked, "Please...Can I have more? Please?"_

_It was barely satisfying for his burning throat, a trickle that soothed it only for a few moments. "Please..."_

_"No."_

_"Wh-why?"_

_"Earn it."_

_"What?"_

_"Earn it. If you want to eat and drink, earn it."_

* * *

The whole world came flooding back as the memory twisted and Jack forced his eyes open to see Phobos dumping what was left of the water in the cup on the floor. He let go of Jack's hair, and Jack realized Phobos had been holding his head up so he could drink. He was in the exact same position as before.

"Were you dreaming?" he asked mockingly, standing up, kicking the cup aside. "Such a nice little memory. Being cared for like that...They've done it loads of times now, haven't they?"

Jack scrunched his eyes shut again, feeling his throat constrict and sobs start building up.

"Petting your hair to comfort and soothe you, worrying over your scrapes and bruises, making sure you have a full stomach and a soft bed, _loving _their little Jack..." Phobos went on.

Jack tried to block out his voice, a new form of agony twisting his insides into knots and gripping his heart.

"No more Jackie for them." Phobos laughed softly, shaking his head, as he walked past Jack to the door, unbolting the lock and pulling it open. "No more Guardians for you."

Jack only sobbed when the door was shut. He wept and wailed, sobbing so heart, he coughed as a result. He spoke, even though he was alone, and it didn't matter; He'd done it so many times before. He sobbed, over and over, _"I want to go home, I want to go home...I want Bunny and Tooth and Sandy and North...I want my family...I want to go **home..."**_

Despite everything, the worst pain Phobos had inflicted on him was bringing back his loneliness.


End file.
